


des vices, des chagrins

by ba_lailah



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Darkest Night treat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Pre-Canon, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 09:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ba_lailah/pseuds/ba_lailah
Summary: The Regent has a gift for Laurent: a boy named Nicaise. As always, there are strings attached.





	des vices, des chagrins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/gifts).

> Fairleigh, your prompt for this was so interesting that I had to write it. I hope it doesn't run afoul of your humiliation DNW—it's nothing worse than what the Regent does to Laurent in _Captive Prince_, but what happens in canon is pretty rough. No hard feelings if you need to reject it.

"I have a gift for you," the Regent said without preamble, strolling into the airy courtyard where Laurent had settled himself with book and slate to study Vask declensions. 

Laurent did not quite contain his flinch of surprise. "Thank you, uncle," he said, rising to his feet and bowing.

"It remains to be seen whether you'll thank me," the Regent said. He put a hand on Laurent's shoulder and gently pressed him back onto the bench. Idly, he began stroking Laurent's hair. "But I thought you might like a friend."

"I have friends," Laurent said incautiously. 

"Do you." The Regent tugged a strand of blond hair. "Name them."

He swallowed, but it was too late. His uncle would know if he lied. "Gerard. Louais." Would two names be enough? No, the Regent was gazing at him with glittering eyes, waiting. "Cythène."

"Those pampered children of the nobility are not your friends, Laurent." The Regent sighed. "How easily you are taken in by those who claim to love you. I had hoped to teach you better than that. They only wish to use you, for their own benefit or that of their parents. They are worse than useless to you." His hand resumed its gentle, rhythmic caress, as steady and meaningless as clockwork. "What a pity you have allowed such schemers to become close to you. I will have them removed from court before they can influence you further."

Laurent sat very still and said nothing.

" 'Thank you, uncle,' " his uncle prompted.

"Thank you, uncle," he repeated.

"You will be better off without them," the Regent said. "And you will have Nicaise."

"Is he to be my new friend?"

"Mm, yes." The Regent signaled to the guard who had followed him in and taken up a post by the entry to the courtyard. "Bring the boy in."

The guard disappeared into the colonnade and returned leading an immaculately painted and bejeweled pet. The boy was perhaps eleven years old. He had a lean and hungry look. As he looked around the courtyard, the bell around his neck chimed softly.

Laurent, who thought himself fully grown at seventeen, protested, "But he's a child! And a _pet_. Shouldn't I associate with those of my own station?"

"The Akelions murdered the only person of your station," the Regent said. "Any supposed friend would be far beneath you. At least this one will know it. Come here, Nicaise."

The pet drew near, his movements unschooled and awkward. He dropped to his knees at the Regent's feet.

"I rescued him from the streets, the poor thing. He has no family. No one but us, now." He left off stroking Laurent's hair and leaned down to tilt Nicaise's chin up. The boy watched them both, his blue eyes sharp and cautious. "As you say, nephew, he is a child. He needs guidance. Who better to teach him than you?"

"Any number of people," Laurent said, striving to sound bored. The Regent was smiling down at Nicaise in a way that twisted a knot into Laurent's stomach. "Radel, for one."

The Regent waved a dismissive hand. "Radel is adequate for training household servants," he said. "But Nicaise will serve me, and Radel doesn't know my preferences as well as you... my most loyal and diligent nephew."

No one overhearing these words would find anything untoward in them. Laurent felt dizzy and sick. With immense force of will, he gathered his thoughts, turning over what his uncle had said, looking for some weakness or inconsistency he might use to his advantage.

"If he is to serve you, then he's not the gift you spoke of," he said finally. 

"Of course he is," the Regent said. He idly stroked Nicaise's hair, just as he had stroked Laurent's. "Use your mind, Laurent. The gift is an opportunity to prove yourself. How can you hope to rule a kingdom if you can't bring one guttersnipe to heel?"

_When I rule this kingdom,_ Laurent thought, _I will bring you to heel, and let the children lead simple children's lives._ Yet as he watched the Regent caress the brown curls, he felt jealousy warring with disgust.

"He's yours to enjoy for a year," the Regent said. "Then you will return him to me, improved. I'm certain you won't stint on his training. After all, his success is your success." The corollary of failure went unspoken, but it coiled between them like an adder.

_You want me to ruin him,_ Laurent thought. _As you've ruined me._

A part of him wanted to gather up the child and flee with him to somewhere safe, as though anywhere could be safe. Another was already considering ways Nicaise could be taught, or induced, to remain secretly loyal to Laurent even after he was given over to the Regent's service. He knew which part would win out. He despised himself.

His uncle was waiting patiently. Laurent smiled, as he had been trained to smile. "Thank you, uncle," he said.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Triste, Triste" by Jules Laforgue:
> 
> _Et notre sort! toujours la même comédie,_  
_Des vices, des chagrins, le spleen, la maladie,_  
_Puis nous allons fleurir les beaux pissenlits d'or._
> 
> And our kind! always the same drama,  
Vices, heartaches, moaning, malingering,  
Until we're pushing up the daisies.
> 
> (Humble thanks to my friend C. for the translation beta.)


End file.
